Double the Pain, Double the Hope
by Lanthiriel25
Summary: "Papa, please!" she begged, fear and anguish coursing through her. "Please, Papa! Please be ok. You promised!" This is Jefferson and Grace's story after he was torn from her, told from her point of view. What happened to her when he didn't return home? What did she do when the curse in Storybrooke was lifted and she remembered her other life, remembered her beloved Papa?
1. A Daughter's Faith

Summary: "Papa, please!" she begged, voice muffled and cracked, fear and anguish coursing through her. "Please, Papa! Please be ok. You promised!" This is Jefferson and Grace's story after he was torn from her, told from her point of view. What happened to her when he didn't return home? What did she do when the curse in Storybrooke was lifted and she remembered her other life, remembered her beloved father?

Warnings: None. Too long author notes? (just in this chapter, I promise!)

Disclaimer: OUAT and associated characters belong to ABC Studios. Writing belongs to me.

AN: This is my first ever OUAT fic. I absolutely love the Jefferson and Grace storyline, even though it absolutely breaks my heart. We know what happens to Jefferson and how it affected him since their story is told primarily from his point of view so I thought it might be interesting to fill in the blanks a little bit about Grace's side of the story – what happened to her when Jefferson became trapped in Wonderland and what did she do when the curse was broken and she got her memories of her old life back? This fic explores that a little.

I've tried to stay as true to the show timeline as I possibly could and make reference to events in the show as well. I also played around a little with the idea of 'two lives forever at odds…double the suffering' idea. That having two contrasting lives and worlds suddenly in your head would be difficult and painful to deal with, just as Jefferson said. Since other character did not appear to struggle with this, I played with the idea that if you did not have your 'constant' (for want of a better word) to anchor you, then it would indeed be physically and mentally painful, not to mention emotionally from the contrasting memories battling for dominance, and being faced with loss and grieving as if it were new, for a second time.

AN2: This story is completely written, with 4 chapters and a short epilogue. I hope to update weekly.

I hope you enjoy - reviews are very much appreciated :)

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**Double the Pain, Double the Hope**

_By Lanthiriel25_

Chapter 1 – A Daughter's Faith

"Papa!" she cried, sobs wracking her entire body, her slight frame convulsing with her tears and gulps of air.

She twisted her fists in her blanket, wrapping her arms around her legs as she curled up against the window frame, burying her face in her knees. Her shoulders shook from the pain and grief which felt like it was trying to rip her apart from the inside out, her salty tears soaking into the faded material. Her father was missing. Gone. It had been thirteen days. Thirteen long and painful days spent at Tobias' and Sara's house, waiting, wondering, worrying. Her Papa had never left for more than one day in her entire life and she felt his absence like a physical wound.

He'd promised he'd be back in time for tea. He'd promised. But that was nearly two weeks ago. He would have come back to her if he could, she knew he would; he'd promised her, and her Papa always kept his promises. So, if he wasn't back, that meant he wasn't able to return. He'd left for her, because he wanted the best for her, to provide for her, so it would be all her fault if something had happened to him. Was he hurt? Trapped? Was in in trouble? Was he…d…? Grace whimpered, hugging her knees tighter, screwing her eyes closed. She couldn't even bring herself to think the terrifying word; so small, so short and yet so painfully final. He wasn't dead, he just wasn't. She refused to believe it. Because he'd promised he'd come back, he wouldn't leave her, he wouldn't.

"Papa, please!" she begged, voice muffled and cracked, her heart breaking, sick fear and anguish coursing through her. "Please, Papa! Please be ok, please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Papa, you promised!"

Fighting the terrifying images of her father lying so still and lifeless by an unknown roadside, face covered in mud and blood, Grace wrenched her eyes open, taking a gasping breath, trying to steady herself. She thudded her head back against the aging wood of her neighbour's cabin, hoping she could knock the fear and pain right out of her head.

"Please," she whispered softly, brokenly, into the dark.

She tried to get her breathing a bit more under control, until she was only hiccupping now and again as she swiped her cold hands across her face, dashing away her tears. Her Papa needed her to be brave. She needed to keep a look out for him. She'd spent the first week scouring the forest, the market, all their well-known trails and pathways, everywhere she knew her father went, searching for even the tiniest clue as to where he was, what had happened to him. She'd begged and pleaded with everyone in the market, pulling on sleeves and turning guileless, desperate eyes on anyone who would listen, asking strangers and friends alike if they'd seen him or had news of him. But no-one did.

Tobias and Sara had indulged her, helping in any way they could, wanting to find Jefferson almost as much as she did, but eventually, after a week of searching and no information to go on, they'd put a stop to it, unable to bear seeing the young girl so near to collapse, pale skin, gaunt face, shadowed and red-rimmed eyes. Her grief and searching was making her sick and that they could not allow. There'd been screaming and fighting and crying, but Grace had finally given in, staying in the house during the day, helping Sara prepare the vegetables and eating her broth like a good little girl. But she never strayed far from her place by the window, glancing out every few seconds, keen eyes desperate to catch a glimpse of her missing father. She refused to give up, wrapping herself in her blanket every night, lighting her little candle, keeping watch over the forest as the dark came, hoping the small dancing flame in the window would help guide her Papa to safety, help him to find his way home.

Reaching out, she wrapped her hand around the wooden bar across the window, gripping it tightly as she trembled, both from the cold and her lingering sobs. The cool night air caused her little candle to flicker, teased at her hair and brushed at her hot, tear-stained cheeks, but she felt nothing. She gazed out into the night, down the forest lane, amongst the trees, desperately searching for any sign of her father's return.

Wait... What was that?

Grace's breath caught, whole body freezing. Something had moved in the trees from the north-easterly way. She held her breath, scrambling up onto her knees, heedless as her blanket dropped from her shoulders as she did so, her eyes never leaving their spot. Gripping the frame tightly, she pressed herself as closely as she could to the wood from her place on the window seat, practically leaning out the window as she strained to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that she'd seen.

There was no movement, nor sound, aside from the soft wind in the trees and the occasional hoot of an owl. Grace bit her lip, breath held, her eyes narrowing as she tried to spot the source of the noise.

Another twig snap, and a soft rustle of undergrowth, closer this time.

"Papa?" Grace breathed, heart thudding in her chest in almost painful anticipation.

Silence again.

Until a hare all of a sudden darted from the bushes, across the dirt track forest road and behind the house, fox close on its heels.

A hare.

Grace froze, her mind not wanting to accept what she'd seen, that her father hadn't found her; he was still missing.

"Papa," she whispered brokenly, feeling her hope shatter and splinter once again so painfully in her chest.

She slumped back into the window seat, pushing the shutter nearest to her further open so she could see as much as she possibly could. She pulled her blanket back up around her shoulders, fidgeting until she was at least halfway comfortable, determinedly refocusing on the tree-line, ignoring the prickling behind her eyes. She slid the candle a little further along the ledge, making it as visible as possible whilst not being in danger of setting anything alight.

"Please, Papa. I'm sorry! Come home. I need you."

She felt tears well once again in her eyes, missing her dear father so much, so scared for him and for herself. In an attempt to distract herself from her grief, fighting back the exhaustion which ached in her body and pulled at her eyelids, she began to toy with her blanket, fingering the uneven patches where the material had had to be mended, re-sewn or patched up. Some were simple wear and tear since the blanket was old, yet cherished. Others however had a story to tell and as Grace kept her vigil for her father, her fingers tracing the evidence of their shared moments of love and laughter in the fabric. These memories kept her company in the candlelight, keeping the sharp and twisting worry at bay.

There was the small tear along one edge from when she'd tried to cut her father's hair, her blanket around his shoulders to protect his clothes, just like she'd seen Neighbour Sara do. Papa had sneezed, causing her to quickly pull the scissors away so as to not accidentally hurt him, catching the woven material as she did so. He'd been quick to reassure his panicked daughter that he was alright, that she hadn't accidentally nicked him with the scissors, and had made a game about repairing the blanket, teasing her that he'd keep his lop-sided hair-do and start a trend, and Grace hadn't been able to stop giggling.

There was a velvet patch, cut out of one of his old ruined cravats, that covered the hole where a spark had burned through it. They'd been having a bonfire in the clearing by their house, toasting bread on long forks as they watched the fire-flies dancing in the dusk light. Papa had been telling her a story about a clumsy fairy he'd met at the market, who'd accidentally dropped some fairy dust into his mushroom basket, causing everyone who bought his mushrooms to have good fortune for the rest of the day. She remembered how her father had come home beaming that day, a soft loaf of bread tucked under one arm and a jar of honey in the other, which he'd bought as a treat for them after selling all of his stock. Before this, Grace hadn't remembered the last time they'd had bread, let alone honey, since money, whilst always tight, had been particularly scarce. She helped him collect firewood and they settled down to toast their bread and warm the honey, exchanging stories as they did so. They'd ended the evening asking each other riddles, each more ridiculous than the last, their happy laughter echoing through the moonlight night.

There was a hard patch from where he father had accidentally split his foul home-made cold medicine when she was laid up in bed with the flu. It was thick and sticky and disgusting, but despite the taste, it did help her feel a little better. And Papa always gave her a honey drop afterwards to suck on to take away the nasty taste. She'd been propped up in bed, a pile of her father's clothes crammed under her pillow to make her more comfortable, and he was pouring out a spoon of the viscous liquid ready for her to take. When he'd seen her screwed up expression, nose wrinkled and mouth down-turned at the memory of the taste, he'd laughed, tweaking her nose. She'd pouted at him, playfully taking a swipe at his shoulder in retaliation which had caused his hand to falter, spilling some of the dark-coloured medicine onto her blanket. And they'd soon discovered it was impossible to wash out, but Grace was just thankful that the smell had disappeared quickly enough.

The mended rip had happened one morning after breakfast, her Papa chasing her around their small home, threatening to tickle-torture her because of her laughing at his highly comical bed-hair. Grace had squealed and laughed as she ran, ducking under his arms and dodging her father's out-stretched hands. He'd finally caught her, sweeping her into the air as she shrieked in surprise and the sudden weightless feeling. He'd spun her round as she squirmed, trying to escape the tickling fingers. Laughing and teasing him, she'd wriggled out of reach, dancing away from him, catching her blanket, which she'd been using as a shawl, on one the hooks on the wall by the door. They'd called truce but Grace had insisted on telling everyone they met that morning that her Papa was having a 'Mad Hair Day'. Jefferson had mock-threatened her with not mending her blanket, but she hadn't been worried since she could see the happy twinkle in his eyes and the smile twitching at his mouth. Her Papa had then declared that same day each week to officially be 'Mad Hair Day' and Grace took great delight in messing up her father's hair on those mornings and tying her own up in a wide variety of messy and crazy ways, often with her Papa's questionable help.

With all these happy memories wrapped around her, Grace's exhausted mind and body finally gave in to sleep, her head falling to rest against the window frame, face still turned outwards into the night. She dreamt about her Papa, stumbling through the woods, twigs in his hair and dirt on his clothes, but with a big smile on his face, kneeling down, arms open wide to greet her. In her dream, Grace leapt from the window seat, flung open the door and ran to meet him, throwing herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck. She hugged him tightly, clutching as his coat, feeling him murmur apologies and 'I love you's into her hair. She pulled back, giggling at his dishevelled appearance, reaching up to pull to the leaves from his hair and brush the dust from his collar.

"I'm glad you're home, Papa!" she told him, with a huge smile.

"Me too, sweetheart," he replied, tears in his eyes.

* * *

Seeing Grace, fast asleep, exhaustion and grief clear on her face even in slumber, Tobias quietly strode across the room. He hated seeing the girl so tired, so burdened, so scared and alone. He wished he could do more to help, but despite all of their best efforts, Jefferson had vanished, seemingly without a trace. He couldn't understand it, knowing the man's devotion to his daughter. He just hoped that he was able to find his way home soon, for both their sakes. But if he couldn't, if he had left the lands of the living, Tobias didn't know what he'd do. It would kill Grace to lose her hope like that, to know for sure she'd never seen her father again.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Tobias carefully wrapped the blanket around Grace, stooping slightly so he could safely scoop her into his arms, blowing out the candle as he did so. Using the light of the moon through the open shutters, Tobias slowly carried Grace to her bed, taking care not to disturb her.

"Papa?" Grace murmured, sleepily, nuzzling her face into Tobias' shoulder, feeling strong arms encircling her, carrying her.

Tobias would have given anything not to have to answer that innocent, hopeful question from a half-awake Grace. He gritted his teeth to keep his voice steady and soothing.

"No, honey. I'm sorry. Just me, Tobias."

"Tobias?" Grace repeated, confused, her sleep-fogged brain too tired to really understand.

"Yes, Grace. You go back to sleep now, alright."

"Alrigh',' Grace mumbled, slipping once more into slumber, as Tobias gently set her down on her blankets, pulling the covers over her.

"Poor child," Sara commented sadly, as she joined her husband, having witnessed the short exchange between the pair of them. Seeing the grief crash down on the girl each morning after she woke from dreams of her father's return was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to witness, seeing the light dim and the hope fade, a little more each day.

Brushing the girl's hair from her face, expression sad as she took in the soft frown which marred Grace's brow, Sara retrieved Grace's rabbit toy and tucked it under the covers with her. In her sleep, Grace's fingers twitched in recognition, reaching out and hugging her beloved soft animal to her chest.

"Papa," she sighed, fingers twisting in the rabbit's coat, before she settled, breathing evening out as she slept through the few short hours until dawn.

* * *

And so it continued, for days, weeks, months. The heart-break never lessening; her hope fading but stubbornly refusing to give in. Falling asleep as she waited and wished, keeping her vigil, Tobias carrying her to bed each night, Sara keeping her fed and busy during the day. Grace never gave up on her Papa, never stopped searching, never stopped waiting in the window with her candle, never stopped believing he would keep his promise, her tea set and her precious rabbit ready for their tea-party when he returned.

She never stopped. Not until the blackened purple cloud, which thundered and sparked, choked the land, snuffing out her candle and her hope, ripping her precious and cherished memories from her, condemning her to a life where, for her, her beloved Papa had never existed.

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Thanks for reading :) Chapter 2 coming soon.


	2. The Search

AN: I've tried to stick to the show timeline with this chapter as much as I could, weaving Grace into what was happening around Storybrooke at this time (the curse breaking, the purple cloud of magic returning, the storm the wraith brought with it etc.).

I hope you enjoy. Reviews are very much appreciated :)

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Chapter 2 – The Search

Paige was sitting at her desk, tapping the end of her pencil against the wood as she pondered the best way to answer the questions she'd been set for homework the day before. She'd done her Math sheets before she went to bed, but, in her eagerness to start her new book, she'd forgotten about her English. Seeing it peeking out of her backpack as she got dressed, she glanced at the clock. Sighing in relief, not wanting to be in trouble for not doing her homework, she realised that, if she worked quickly, she might have time to get it done before she had to leave for school. As the minutes ticked by however, she was beginning to think it couldn't be done; it was too complicated!

Paige's brow furrowed as she thought back to what they'd done in class yesterday morning, sifting through the information and activities to help her complete the worksheets. Remembering something Miss Blanchard had said, she started to write her answer for the first question. But before she'd even written four words, a sudden gust washed over her, causing her to drop her pencil with a clatter, the sharp yet warm wind blowing her hair and fluttering the pages on her desk. She froze, stunned. It was like liquid light was pouring through her brain, creeping its way into every crevice, filling in gaps which she hadn't even noticed were there. Memories came rushing back, all at once, happiness, fear, grief, laughter, worry, pulling her every which way. Memories of her real name, her real home in the Enchanted Forest, her kind neighbours…her real father. Her father! Papa!

She was suddenly assaulted with the pain of their separation, his loss, the gnawing, ever-present grief. But a flickering spark of hope ignited somewhere in her mind; at home, he'd been torn from her, kept from her, but here…? The Queen had cursed everyone and brought them to Storybrooke, she knew that now; she didn't know how and she didn't know why, but she inexplicably knew it was the truth. Her Papa could be here! He could. She could find him and they could be a family again! Maybe the curse wasn't the terrible thing the Queen had meant it to be after all, she thought joyfully, hope sparking within her. What was it her Papa always used to say? Silver lining?

Darting from her chair, she rushed to the window, looking out over Storybrooke, scanning the town in the morning light. If the Queen had brought everyone to Storybrooke, no matter where they had been when she'd cursed them, then maybe her Papa was here too! Her Papa could be out there, somewhere, and if he was, she was going to find him. She refused to think about the much more likely possibility that he wasn't, clinging to the desperate hope that she would see her beloved father again.

Sprinting down the stairs, scrambling to find her shoes, she dashed out of the front door, leaving it swinging behind her.

I'm coming, Papa, she thought. I'll find you!

* * *

Grace frowned, turning round another corner, scouring another street. She was out of breath, running through the town, peering into windows, determined to find her Papa. She scanned every face, some smiling in joyful reunion when they found their friends, others clearly searching for loved ones, the same as she was. With every pounding step on the pavement, the hope and fear warred within her. She was sure she would have found him by now.

But… Maybe he didn't want to find her. Maybe he'd left her all those years ago in the forest and built a new life. Maybe he'd been happy living his new life in Storybrooke without her. Maybe he didn't want her to find him. She'd been the reason he'd left in the first place, put himself in danger because of her, so maybe he blamed her for whatever had happened to him in their world; maybe he didn't want to see her in this one. The remembered guilt from her memories came crashing down on her, almost crippling her. It was all her fault and maybe he hated her for it.

Grace's frantic feet halted, the horrible thought scattering through her mind before she stamped them down, her buckled foot literally stamping into the concrete in denial. Her Papa would scold her something awful for thinking like that, telling her it was his choice. Her father loved her, she knew that, more than life itself. She knew he would do anything for her. He would do everything and anything in his power to be with her, to find her again, both in their world and Storybrooke. She knew it, as sure as the sun would rise.

But…if she couldn't find him, if he wasn't here...then that would mean… Her Papa was…

"No!" Grace exclaimed out loud, refusing to think about the dreadful alternative. He was here, she told herself; she just had to keep trying.

Spinning on the spot, she scanned the crowds, happy shouts, hugs and reunions taking place all around her. She would keep looking. Her father would never give in, and neither would she. Clenching her fists, she decided where to search next, her feet hurrying her along, eyes darting everywhere, terrified she might pass him by accident or miss a clue as to his whereabouts. She was going to find her Papa, even if she had to search every last street and building!

* * *

She stood, frozen, on the sidewalk, her search halted as she helplessly stared at the terrifying cloud billowing down the street towards her. She had no idea what it was but something, some nameless dread from deep down inside, told her it was nothing good. She stumbled back, helplessly glancing around with wide, fearful eyes for somewhere to go, somewhere to hide, wishing her Papa was with her, to keep her safe, to hold her close.

"Papa, Papa, Papa," she whispered frantically, distractedly, fear threatened to consume her as she backed away. "Papa! Help me!"

As the cloud reached her, she threw herself to the ground in an effort to protect herself, curled up into a ball, arms thrown round her head. It stole her breath as it swept over her, its cold yet burning tendrils licking around her, its thick, swirling ash choking her, blinding her.

"Papa!" she screamed, the cloud raging above her, swirling around her, biting at her skin, tugging relentlessly at her hair and clothes.

* * *

Seconds, minutes, hours later, Grace couldn't be sure, it was all over. There was fresh air in her lungs once more, warmth of the morning sun on her skin. Grace hesitated, breathing heavily, waiting to see if it had passed. Slowly peeking out from under her arms, she cautiously sat up, brushing her wind-swept hair from her face. Twisting where she was, shoes scraping on the concrete, she couldn't feel any pain. Gingerly she got her feet underneath her and pushed herself up.

What was that?! she wondered. It seemed familiar somehow, from her life in the forest, but she couldn't be sure, her memories and lives blurring and overlapping confusingly in her mind.

Shaking her head, she tried to refocus. Her search to find her Papa. That was what was important. Tucking her hair behind her ears with still shaking hands, she glanced up and down the street. Choosing a direction, she set off once more.

* * *

Grace could hear shouting from a few streets over. The sound of angry feet marching over angry voices. Cautiously creeping forwards, she peered around the corner, hands resting against the cool wall. In the distance she could see a small crowd gathered. She could just about make out Granny and Ruby, Miss Blanchard and the man who used to be in a coma…Daniel? David? She wasn't sure. Emma and Henry were there, so was Leroy. She didn't know who they'd been in the Enchanted Forest, but it didn't matter. She knew them here, at least a little, knowing their faces from around town; maybe they could help her find her Papa.

Taking a step out into the street, the distant shouting become louder, angrier, people striding through the crossroads between her and Miss Blanchard's friends, Grace hesitated. She watched as Miss Blanchard and her friends hurried after the crowd, leaving her alone. Her heart sank. Things were looking more and more hopeless. She didn't know what was going on, why everyone seemed so angry or where they were going; she couldn't hear their words clearly to figure anything out on her own. The streets were practically deserted, the harsh voices and shouts becoming more and more distant. Grace leant against the wall, head tilted back as she looked up to the bright blue sky.

"Where are you, Papa?" she whispered, eyes closing as tears clung stubbornly to her eyelashes.

* * *

Grace exited the post office, bell clanging behind her as the door swung closed. She'd searched all day and it was getting dark. Her feet were beginning to hurt and her head was aching terribly. Her stomach rumbled, upset with her for not stopping for food all day. She could almost hear her father's voice in her head, scolding her for not looking after herself. Running a hand across her face, closing her eyes as the evening light stung them, Grace felt the despair rising. There was no sign of her Papa anywhere.

She startled as she heard a deafening bang coming from a short distance behind her, car alarms starting to blare, causing the pain in her head to grow even more. The dim light of evening quickly faded into darkness, wind beginning to howl around her, tossing dried leaves and abandoned litter into the air. Another bang echoed through the street as she spun where she stood, not understanding what on earth was happening. The darkness which had fallen was not the darkness of night; it was thick, suffocating, oppressive. She cried out as the ground lurched beneath her feet, throwing her aside. She collided with the brick wall, scratching her hands as she tried to catch her fall. Pressing herself back against the brick, feet spreading into a wide stance, bent knees, to keep her balance, one hand on the rough surface to steady herself, one hand flung out for stability as the ground trembled again.

The telephone wires were sparking overhead, raining down an electric shower around her, briefly lighting up the rapidly darkening street. The streetlights flickered and short-circuited, the bulbs shattering, glass shards scattering through the air. Grace ducked and ran to avoid the sharp crystal splinters. The ground shook again causing her to lose her footing. With a cry, Grace fell, throwing out her hands to save herself. Her knees hit the ground, skin grazing at the impact, but she barely felt it over the stinging in her already-scratched hand as the soft flesh of her palm was shredded and torn.

Forcing herself to her feet, Grace ran to the shops on the other side of the street, wedging herself into one of the deeper-set doorways, trying to find some protection and shelter from the howling wind and the destruction around her. Cradling her bleeding hand into her lap, tucking her knees up to be as small as possible, she covered her head with her other arm, breathing coming harsh and terrified. She just wanted to be somewhere safe. She wanted to go home. She wanted her Papa.

* * *

Once the strange storm had passed, the choking darkness having fading back into the natural dusk-light, Grace stumbled dizzily to her feet, her head feeling like it was about to split apart, but she couldn't go home, not yet. She couldn't.

She continued her search, heart-sick and desperate, her tired feet slowing and faltering as the dusk light began to fade for real, night well and truly falling, but she refused to give up, flashlight in hand, borrowed from the hardware store for when the streetlights failed her. This was how Tobias and Sara found her soon after. They'd been frantic when she'd disappeared and they'd been unable to find her. They were still reeling from the day's revelation and resurfacing memories of their own, trying to reconcile their different lives and memories, but their over-riding concern was to find Grace. They didn't know where she'd gone and how she was coping with everything.

Tobias had miraculously spotted her, weaving unsteadily on her feet further down the street, her little light flashing in the semi-darkness. Sara had sent up a quick prayer of thanks that they'd found her, sick with worry at Grace being out in the unnatural storm all alone; she prayed that she was ok.

Running down the street to catch up with her, Tobias softly called her name, reaching out to touch her shoulder, turning her around.

Grace peered up at the man before her, squinting slightly against the ever-growing pain in her head as she tried to make out his features. Her eyes were not adjusting well to the dim light of her surroundings and the beam of the artificial flashlight. She wavered on her feet, leaning into the support the man offered her, keeping her steady. Could it be…?

"Papa?" she asked blearily, her eyes not quite focused, her expression pinched with pain.

"No, Grace, it's me. Tobias."

Blinking, Grace shook her head, her neighbour and guardian coming into clearer focus.

"Tobias? I… Sara?" she asked.

Sara appeared at Tobias' side, her expression worried.

"Sara," Grace breathed. "Tobias."

Despite her exhaustion, Grace smiled. Her neighbours, whom she'd known as her parents for the last 28 years, had found her. She stumbled forward, wrapping her arms around them both, loving them for being Tobias and Sara as well as her (surrogate) parents. They hugged her tightly in return. But despite Grace's joy at being reunited with them (and wasn't that a strange feeling, having spent every day for 28 years with them!?) she refused to return home when they asked. She ignored their stern cajoling and pleas for her to come back with them, to continue the search tomorrow. She needed to sleep, they argued desperately, wanting to make sure she was ok.

Grace could feel the truth in their words; she was exhausted, sick to her stomach and the terrible ache in her head had become so painful it almost over-powered the pain in her heart for her Papa. The dull pressure of feeling like she had too many memories to fit had morphed into blinding, shooting pains sparking through her skull. She gripped Sara's sleeve harder, twisting the material in her fists as she tried to cope with the pain. Her memories as Paige and Grace were slipping in and out of focus, merging and fracturing confusingly until her head spun. She felt like she was one of those boats she'd seen in the harbour went Miss Blanchard had taken them to learn about water safety and life boats, being tossed about on a restless sea, but without an anchor or rope to keep her grounded and steady. She needed her anchor; she needed her Papa!

Grace tried focusing on just one world's memories at a time, so she could deal with the onslaught and concentrate on finding her Papa, but it was no use. The pressure and the erratic sparks only kept on getting worse, her vision blurring as she stubbornly continued to cling onto Sara. It was only as her vision hazed and faded completely, the sounds of one of her Papa's lullabies echoing in her ears, did her muscles betray her, her body crumpling to the floor as it gave in, a soft "Papa" escaping her lips as she fell. Tobias and Sara managed to catch her however before she hit the concrete, supporting and guiding her back to their house.

Setting her carefully onto the sofa, they worriedly took in her pale face, glazed eyes, her practically catatonic state, responding to neither their words nor their touches. She didn't even flinch when Sara cleaned her cuts, the sting of the antiseptic going unnoticed. Her lips where slowly moving, mouthing silent words, sounding out her memories, conversations she'd had and was reliving in her head. The shape of the word 'Papa' was easily the most recognisable and common, increasing in frequency until Grace was clearly repeating that name under her breath like a mantra, holding on to the word, onto the precious memory of her father, like a talisman. Her hope in her crumbling, kaleidoscoping world.

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Hope you enjoyed. Next chapter coming soon :)


	3. Double the Suffering

AN: This chapter's a little shorter, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. One more chapter and an epilogue after this one...

Leanne - thank you so so much for your reviews; I'm so happy you're enjoying the story :)

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Chapter 3 – Double the Suffering

Grace startled as a hand shook her shoulder, a female voice insistently calling her name, cutting through the fog which had doused her mind.

"Mom? I mean, I don't… I… Sara?"

Sara made herself smile, not wanting to worry Grace or frighten her any more.

"Yes, honey. It's Sara. Here, drink this; it'll help."

Sara offered Grace, whom she loved like a daughter, a small cup of warm, sweetened blackcurrant juice. Pushing herself up onto one elbow, Grace reached out to take the glass, the gentle heat which warmed her fingers soothing her. Taking a sip, she felt the warmth and the sweetness strengthen her, focusing on the act of drinking and then nibbling on the accompanying cookie calming her clamouring thoughts and memories. In the calm of her (one of her) homes, with people she knew she could trust, she felt safer, the memories more settled, more easy to recognise and manage. But the gaping hole of her father, both in the last world and in this, burned harsh and raw. The memories and pain of losing her father hitting her all over again, new and agonisingly fresh.

Finishing off the juice and the cookie, Grace valiantly forced the howling pain down inside, needing to get away, needing her own space. She smiled at Tobias and Sara, assuring them she was alright, hugging them briefly before making her way to her room as quickly as she could without causing them alarm.

Shutting the door behind her, Grace sank numbly onto the edge of her bed, minutes, hours, ticking by, the moon now riding high in the sky as she gazed at her hands in her lap. But she was blind to them, seeing only the twinkling eyes of her Papa, the wide smile he had only for her. She heard herself beg him to stay, his voice promising he would be back for their tea party. She felt him softly kiss her forehead, adjusting her cloak, pulling up her hood so she wouldn't catch a chill. The last time she saw ever him…

* * *

Tears blurring her vision, Grace leant across her mattress, fingers snagging on one ear of her cherished toy rabbit, now understanding why it was so special to her. And the comfort it brought was only matched by the associated pain of loss and guilt.

"Papa!" she cried, sobs wracking her entire body, her slight frame convulsing with the tears and gulps of air.

She'd been here before, the burning grief lancing through her. She clutched her rabbit to her chest, torn and faded and frayed, wrapping her arms around it and burying her face in its fur. Her shoulders shook from the pain and grief which felt like it was trying to rip her apart from the inside out, her salty tears soaking into her faithful friend's off-white fur. Her father was missing, gone. He would have come back to her if he could, she knew he would; he'd promised her, and her Papa always kept his promises. So, if he wasn't back, that meant he wasn't able to return. Was he hurt? Trapped? Was in in trouble? Was he…d…? She couldn't even bring herself to think the terrifying word; so small, so short and yet so painfully final. He wasn't dead, he just wasn't. She refused to believe it. Because he'd promised he'd come back, he wouldn't leave her, he wouldn't.

"Papa, please!" she begged, her heart-breaking, sick fear and anguish coursing through her. "Please, Papa! I love you! Please be ok, please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Papa, you promised!"

"Grace!"

The anguished shout of her mother, no, Sara, she reminded herself, echoed through her room and the door flew open as she hurriedly entered, tying her dressing gown around her. Sara's heart broke at the sight of Grace curled up against her headboard, rabbit held in a death-grip, sobbing like her world was ending. She'd seen Grace like this once before and she'd hoped never to see her so distraught again. She cursed the Queen with every horror she knew, hating her more than she'd ever hated anyone, for making Grace lose her father all over again.

"Sssh!" she soothed. "Grace, it's ok. It's all going to be ok, you'll see. Hush, little one."

"No! Go away!" Grace practically screamed, pushing Sara away. "You can't help me! Leave me alone! Please!"

Sara hesitated, desperately wanting to help the girl, not wanting her to hurt herself in her distress. Seeing Grace visibly, deliberately, calm herself, trembling with the effort, Sara opened her mouth to comfort her, still undecided about her best course of action. But at Grace's soft yet distraught, "Please. I'll… I'll be ok. Just need to be…alone. Please," she carefully left the room, trusting that her surrogate daughter knew what she needed, softly closing the door behind her, wishing she knew what to do, how to ease her grief.

Hearing the door catch, Grace let go off the tight rein she'd been holding against the worsening pain in her skull. She clutched her head with a quiet, wordless cry as the sharp agony ripped through her mind once again, twisting her fingers painfully into her long hair, desperate to stop the hurt screaming through her head. She had two lives, two worlds colliding and unravelling around each other, so violently that she could barely stand it. Double the pain, double the suffering. Double the grief for her Papa.

"Papa, please!" she begged helplessly. "It…hurts. Please, Papa. Make it stop!"

She was Grace, but she was also Paige. All the dreams, feelings and memories from both lives clashed and splintered. Grace's simple existence and Paige's more than comfortable lifestyle. Grace's rabbit and tea set. Paige's rabbit and sketch pads. Grace's hide and seek. Paige's skip hop scotch and computer games. Grace's hope and Paige's happiness. Grace's guilt and Paige's innocence. Grace's love for her father and Paige's unawareness of him.

Karen and Harry were her parents, her Mom and Dad, but they were really Sara and Tobias, her neighbours. And… Her father. Her Papa. He was there, in Grace's memories, a shining beacon of home and family and love, but he wasn't here. Searching her memories as Paige she couldn't ever remember seeing his face in Storybrooke, not even in passing. And that day's searching hadn't given her any more clues, nothing to bolster her hope. Maybe he really was dead; maybe she'd never see him again, the hope at his survival in the Enchanted Forest cruelly dashed by the curse and his absence in Storybrooke. And to have him mercilessly torn from her a second time, hope fading and dying, with not even a flicker to kindle, was more than her young and desperate heart could bear.

The confusing emotions and combined experiences battered her from all sides, until her grief for her Papa overrode it all.

She had always clung to the hope that he was alive, just lost or trapped somewhere so he couldn't return to her. But he wasn't here. He wasn't in Storybrooke. And that meant… That meant all her hoping and childish wishing had been in vain. He was dead and she'd never again be wrapped in those strong, gentle arms again, arms which felt like protection and love and home. Never again hear him laugh so hard he cried. Never again hear him say her name…

Everyone she knew was here. Everyone! But he wasn't… He wasn't…

"Papa," she tearfully whispered, her heart breaking quietly, painfully, in her chest, "my Papa…"

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. Next (longer) chapter coming soon, complete with short flashback :)


	4. A Father's Promise

AN: Thanks Leanne, for your kind review for the last chapter :) It makes me smile to know you are enjoying the story. I completely agree about Tobias and Sara; I actually have a oneshot outlined in my 'To write' list about their presence in Grace's life once she's found her Papa.

Hope you enjoy this chapter. Epilogue coming soon :)

* * *

Chapter 4 – A Father's Promise

She didn't know how long she'd cried through her grief; the sun threatening to breach the horizon, staining the sky a burnished orange, when she finally calmed, with no more tears left to cry. Her two lives still collided and clashed painfully in her head, disorientating, but she felt detached from it somehow. The edges of her two lives had started to knit, awkward and patchy but more manageable, the happy memories of times with her Papa easing the immediate hurt. Keeping tight hold of her rabbit, she carefully got off her bed and made her way over to her window, her body aching from the emotional and physical stress of the past hours. Perching herself on the narrow window ledge, she gazed out at the world still sleeping, an echo of the vigil for her Papa she'd kept all those years ago. She also remembered watching another sunrise, a far less lonely one that this…

* * *

_"__Stupid, rotten, no-good laces…" Grace grumbled quietly to herself as she tried for the seemingly hundredth time to tie her boots._

_"__How are you faring, sweetie?"_

_Grace looked up with a grimace as her father sat down next to her on their front doorstep, setting aside her empty breakfast plate, sipping his tea as they watched the sun rise through the forest trees.__They had an early start that day, needing to gather as many fresh mushrooms as possible for that morning's market._

_"__Not so good," Grace admitted with a pout, fingers still tangled in the long string._

_"__Need me to show you again?" her Papa offered with a patient smile._

_"__Yes, please," she sighed, untwisting her fingers from the laces._

_Setting down his cup, Jefferson shifted off the step, kneeling in front of her, focusing on her boots._

_"__Here, watch this."_

_Slowly, he demonstrated each stage of lacing and tying her shoes, explaining what he was doing as he did so._

_"__Now you try," he encouraged once he was done, tapping her affectionately on the nose._

_"__Ok," she smiled, dropping her eyes to her laces, repeating the instructions, doing as her Papa had shown her._

_Unconsciously chewing her lip in concentration, Grace hesitantly managed to correctly lace and tie her boots, glancing up at her Papa every few seconds to gauge how she was doing.__Every time, she was met with his encouraging blue eyes and soft, loving smile._

_"__I did it!" Grace exclaimed once she'd finished._

_"__You certainly did, Miss Clever-Clogs!" Jefferson beamed, pride clear in his face and expression.__ "__Knew you could do it."_

_"__But…" Grace glanced down, expression falling, something having been eating away at the back of her mind that whole morning.__ "__What if I can't do something, no matter how hard I try, and you're not there to help me?"_

_Jefferson felt a sharp tug of his heart at his daughter's words, wondering what had caused her uncharacteristically melancholy thoughts.__Shifting himself a little closer, he grasped both of her hands in her lap between his, catching and holding her gaze._

_"__You'd be fine, Grace.__I know it.__You're so clever and so brave, and more stubborn than me!__You'd find a way, I know you would.__But I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart, trust me.__I'll always be with you.__No matter how far away I am, no matter what anyone else tells you, I will find you.__I promise, Grace.__So don't you ever give up hope, you hear me?__Because you're my daughter and I love you more than I can say.__And if, for whatever reason, I can't come home, I'll be watching over you, alright?__For always.__Don't lose hope in yourself.__Do you understand?"_

_Grace nodded, wide, earnest eyes on her Papa._

_"__Yes, Papa.__I understand."_

_Jefferson smiled, cupping her face between his hands before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead._

_"__That's my Grace."_

_"__Papa?__Do you understand too?"__At her father's confused frown, she continued.__ "__I won't lose hope in you, Papa, either!__You're the best Papa a girl could wish for; you teach me and help me, look after me and make me laugh.__I don't think there's a girl alive as lucky as me!__I love you too.__No, wait… I love you more!"_

_"__Not possible!" her father quipped with a soft smile, his eyes prickling at his daughter's heartfelt words.__He brushed a hand over his daughter's hair, knowing he'd never leave his daughter, but needing her to know she'd be ok without him if the unthinkable happened._

_Grace gently pulled on his hands.__Jefferson frowned slightly, trying to figure out what she was wanting.__As she shuffled along slightly, he understood, returning to his perch on the step beside her, holding out his arm for her with an exaggeration flourish, wide grin and a quirk of his eyebrow.__Laughing, she wormed her way under his arm and pressed into his side, smiling as she felt her father's arm wrap around her shoulders.__He pressed a kiss onto the crown of her head before giving her a gentle squeeze.__Leaning her head on his shoulder, she watched as the sky morphed from orange into pink, listening to the forest morning chorus, thinking about her Papa's words as he held her and finished his tea._

* * *

Grace smiled at the memory. More stubborn than him? Clever and brave? She doubted that somehow but she knew she wasn't going to give up, despite her grief and the apparent hopelessness; her Papa had asked her to believe, asked her to hope. He'd promised he'd be back for tea, and, whilst he'd missed that particular tea-party by many years, she still believed him. He wasn't dead; he couldn't be. He would find her, she just had to help him. What could she do? What could she…?

Looking aimlessly around her bedroom for inspiration, her gaze snagged on her desk, at her paper and pencils. Maybe…? Back in the Enchanted Forest, she'd searched the woods, asked everyone in the market, but her corner of the world there was so small compared to Storybrooke; she'd never be able to talk to everyone in town and ask them if they knew anything about her Papa. But she could do something else.

Retrieving a pad of paper and her pencil case from her school bag, she sunk into her desk chair, brushing her homework sheets aside, placing the more important items in front of her. She closed her eyes, allowing her memories with her father to crowd her mind's eye, burning his image into the back of her eye lids. His messy hair framing his face, the stray lock which sometimes hung in his eyes, his animated eyebrows arching over his expressive blue eyes. Quickly snatching up her pencil she got to work, sketching out her Papa's face, writing her desperate plea underneath. Scanning the finished product with a critical eye, she knew it wasn't perfect but it was her best shot. Ripping it out the pad and setting her first copy aside, she focused on the next sheet of paper for her second copy.

Ten, twenty, thirty. Grace's pencils flew over the pages, picture after picture of her father appearing with practised pencil strokes. She muttered under her breath as she worked, frown creasing between her eyebrows, so focused, so determined, so violently single-minded. Eighty, ninety, one hundred. She drew and drew until her fingers ached and blistered, pencils worn out and blunt, stacks of paper piling up around her. Hearing the clock strike the hour, Grace ran a hand through her already dishevelled hair, her blond locks almost as wild as the desperate glint in her eyes.

"This will work," she told herself determinedly, as she glanced around at the numerous towers of paper surrounding her, piled over her desk, on her bed, littering the floor. "This'll work." Truly her father's daughter in more ways that she knew.

Wanting to get as many of them up around the town before school, she quickly changed, pulling a comb through her hair to get rid of the tangles. Hurrying to the bathroom, she splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth. Returning to her bedroom, she carefully gathered up all of her hard work, collecting up the posters and stuffing them in her pink backpack, along with a roll of sticky tape and a pair of scissors. Zipping up the contents, careful not to snag the corners of any of the pages, Grace smiled to herself. She had a plan; this would work. She was finally going to find her Papa.

Bag securely fastened and slung over her shoulder, Grace ran downstairs two at a time, leaving a scribbled note on the kitchen table for Tobias and Sara, apologising for screaming at them and then briefly explaining where she was going and why, so they wouldn't worry. Hastily grabbing a banana on her way out, Grace began her journey into town, sticking her biggest picture up on the 'crisis centre' wall before then walking through the streets, taping a poster to every streetlamp, telegraph pole, shop window and notice board she could find.

* * *

Grace had been walking through debris and wreckage for most of her journey, the destruction wrought by what she found out was a wraith was everywhere she looked. So when she rounded the street corner from the ice cream parlour, she didn't pay too much attention to the upturned turquoise car and the demolished street lamp it was buried under. She'd almost passed it when something unusual, out of place, caught her eye. Something pink. She carefully navigated the wreckage, glass and wooden splinters crunching loudly under her feet. She crouched down as she approached the pink box.

It was torn and dirty, a boot print clear on the lid. Making sure she didn't cut herself on the shards, Grace picked up the damp cardboard, brushing away the mud so she could read what it said. 'Deluxe Tea Set'. She frowned. Setting the lid aside, her fingers hovered over the broken pieces of the cups and saucers shattered on the pavement, china mingling in with the ruins of the car, street lamps and bricks. She couldn't help the way her heart lurched and gut clenched at the sight, remembering the many treasured tea parties she'd shared with her Papa.

Looking around, she also noticed a soft toy by one of the doors. Shuffling along, Grace reached out and snagged the pale fur between her fingers. It was a rabbit. A tea-set and a rabbit. Grace's breath caught. Keeping the toy in her grip, Grace stood, looking up and down the street. She dared not let herself hope that her father had been here, that this may even be her father's car. But memories of the rabbit her Papa had made especially for her, a perfect guest for her tea parties, shone clear and happy and painful in her mind. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it…?

Turning to look for any more clues, the scraping of the glass beneath her feet suddenly became painfully important. The state of the street, the car; it was a mess of jagged, torn, twisted metal. If her Papa was driving this car when it crashed… The rabbit slipped from her fingers as the reality of what she was faced with hit her.

She could have found him, only to have lost him…

"Papa…"

Swallowing hard, Grace steeled herself. She slowly crouched, bending so she could see into the vehicle. Peering through the wrenched open door, the car groaning as she placed a hand on the metal to steady herself, Grace was relieved to find the car empty. No-one injured or unconscious. No…body. Whoever had been in the car had been able to get out and walk away. They were ok.

But, Grace's mind treacherously provided, that wasn't necessarily the case. Maybe they'd been hurt so badly that they'd had to be rescued, taken to hospital. Her Papa could be hurt! She had to find out.

Choking down the rising nausea, Grace scanned the street for someone who could help her. Luckily, she spotted the Mother Superior, carrying a pile of blankets, walking in her direction on the other side of the road. Quickly retrieving a picture from her bag, Grace hurried across the street, trying not to think about her Papa all alone in a hospital bed.

"Excuse me?"

The Mother Superior stopped, turning towards her, a kind and open expression on her face, despite the worried crease on her brow.

"Yes? Paige, is it?"

Grace shook her head. "I'm Grace."

"Grace," she corrected with a smile. "Are you alright? How can I help?"

Grace bit her lip, glancing back at the car wreckage.

"Do you…? I mean… You sometimes help out at the hospital, don't you? Please, have you seen anybody who looks like this there?"

Grace offered her the drawing she'd held clenched in her fist, which the nun took carefully, looking closely at the features of the man in the picture.

"He's my Papa," Grace explained. "I think… I think I found his car all smashed up, just over there. I just want to know if he's ok."

The Blue Fairy's heart broke at seeing the worry in the young girl's face; she could feel the pain and grief rolling off her in waves, but she could also sense the valiant hope which shone out from her soul, warming the world around her. She handed Grace back her picture, resting her hand on Grace's shoulder, stooping to meet her gaze.

"I have just come from the hospital and this man is not a patient there. But, wherever he is, Grace, I am sure that, despite his accident, he is alright. I hope you find him."

Relief coursed through her, knowing that he wasn't seriously injured as he wasn't in hospital. And now she had some sort of solid hope, a torn rabbit and broken tea-set, that her Papa was indeed in Storybrooke, she just had to find him.

"Thank you!" she smiled at the Blue Fairy before she turned to continue with her task, her step lighter and her heart more hopeful. "And I will!"

* * *

By the time the school bus arrived, she only had about a quarter of her home-made posters left. She stuck one in the window of the bus, and used a few more at school, sticking them on the bike stand, the benches, in some of the classrooms. With all that had been going on, the school wasn't very busy with many teachers and pupils absent, but Grace tried to spread the word anyway, talking to whomever she could, trying to get some information. She had maybe twenty posters left after that, burning a hole in her backpack for the rest of the day. Ignoring her lessons, she mentally retraced her steps from that morning, planning where she would display her remaining posters for maximum effect; she'd do that straight after she'd gotten off the bus. She hadn't been to Granny's yet, maybe she'd head there first, put a poster up in the window and hand some out to the patrons, ask them if they knew anything? Then she'd go home and make some more, and she'd keep doing it, for however long it took to be reunited with her beloved Papa, to see his face, to hear his laugh, to hold him close.

Grace would keep searching, keep sticking up pictures and messages, asking everyone she met, keep hoping because she would never give up on her Papa, just like she knew he would never give up on her. A curse, a different world, an Evil Queen, none of this would stop her Papa. He could do anything; he'd rip apart every world just to come home to her.

And she would do everything she could to help him, a tiny candle in a forest-house window, a hundred posters plastered on every surface available in a Maine harbour-town; whatever Grace could do for her Papa, she would. She'd made him a promise and she wasn't going to let him down.

Her Papa had made her a promise too and he would keep it. She was sure of it; she just had to brave, had to be patient, and not lose her hope.

* * *

Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed :) Epilogue to follow soon...


	5. You Found Me

AN: I hope you enjoy this final chapter. Thank you, Leanne, for your kind words and faithful reviews :)

* * *

Epilogue – You Found Me

Skipping down the bus steps, Grace turned, laughing at the joke her friend had made. Yasmin was always complaining about the homework they were given, but today, she was especially indignant. A curse has just been broken and the world as we know it has ended, surely they could give us a night without homework?! she lamented. Grace could see her point, but homework was not one of her priorities right now. She had more important things to think about. But that fact didn't make Yasmin's pouting any less funny.

Grace adjusted her grip on her backpack, which hung from one shoulder and contained a selection of posters which she was going to spend the rest of the afternoon putting up around town and asking people about. She was thinking that maybe she'd head to Granny's first, that way she could catch the customers coming in for their afternoon snack and have the posters ready for the evening rush. Then maybe she would…

"Grace."

Grace faltered, stopping on the sidewalk as her friends passed her to go home. That voice. She knew that voice. A voice which she'd feared she would never hear again. But there it was, soft and hesitant and raw.

She felt hope kindle warm and bright in her chest. It couldn't be…

She turned. Her heart stuttered beneath her ribs, breath catching. She couldn't believe it! It was him! It was her Papa!

He looked different. His hair was shorter, no longer haphazardly framing his face. His clothes darker. She dimly noted that he looked tired, nervous. Scared. But it was all drowned out but the sheer joy that washed warm and golden through her. Her worries and fear gently soothed, the still distantly painful clamouring and colliding of her disparate memories instantly quietening and calming. It was him, it was definitely her Papa; she'd know him anywhere! Standing mere metres away from her. It was the best sight she'd ever seen. And in that moment, she didn't care how long he'd been gone, why he hadn't come home, the way she'd grieved. The only thing that mattered was that he was there, with her; he was the only thing she'd ever need.

Needing to be close to him, not being able to stand another second apart from him, Grace ran.

"Papa!" she cried, happiness dancing through her, smiling stretching wide and joyful on her face.

He bent down to meet her, wrapping his arms around her as she threw her own around his neck. He was real. Solid and warm. She could feel his heart pounding, his breath catching, the way his arms trembled around her, as if he couldn't believe she was really there, in his grasp.

She breathed in deeply, remembering the scent of her Papa, which always stuck to the fabric he wore: fresh air, wood, leather, and something uniquely _him_. Home. She clung on as hard as she could as he rocked them back, soaking in the feeling of her Papa's arms holding her close, squeezing her tight. Her fingers bunched in the material of her father's clothes as she buried her face into his shoulder, never wanting to let him go again. Ever.

"You found me! I knew you would."

She didn't know _how_ he'd found her, but she'd clung to the promise he'd made her, trusting in her Papa when everything seemed hopeless. Her Papa could do anything, and he had. Against all the odds, he had found her.

Friends and family had been torn apart because of the curse, but she'd lost her Papa long before then, so him finding her again, after all that time, was so much more precious and heart-mending. He was alive and he was here with her and the love she had for him felt like it could literally explode right out of her. All of her grief and anger and questions could wait. Right now, she was the happiest girl in the world, in all the worlds in fact, and nothing could take that away from them.

Wrapping his arms more securely around her, she felt her Papa stand, carrying her.

"I love you, Papa," she murmured into his scarf, eyes stinging with the fact she could tell him that again and again and again.

She heard her father's breath, already uneven with emotion, stutter, and she felt the way his chest hitched with a sound that could have been a disbelieving, broken laugh but came out more like a stifled sob.

"I love you too… my Grace."

Hearing those words come from her Papa, her Papa whom she thought she'd lost forever, made Grace almost feel as if she could fly, utter joy bursting and sparking through every inch of her. It was everything she'd ever dreamed and more.

She was safe. She was home. Because no matter which world they found themselves in, home would always be wrapped in the arms of her Papa. Always.

* * *

The End

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed! Reviews very much appreciated :)

AN2: I have written a handful of one-shots for Jefferson and Grace, some taking place during their time in the Enchanted Forest before the curse, and some set in Storybrooke, which I will be posting once I've edited and proofread them. Keep an eye out for those in the coming weeks, if you are interested :) I can't get enough of writing these two - I love them both so much! :)


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